Because of Banana Peels
by DoctorWhobbit
Summary: Through a "quantum deficiency" in the time vortex, the tenth incarnation of the Doctor lands in Hogwarts and winds up subbing as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for Lupin during a full moon.
1. Crash Landing

"You are saying you will be unable to fill in for Lupin this full moon?"

"That is correct, sir." Snape answered through his teeth, voice in the usual dull monotone. He chose to stand instead of sit in the Headmaster's spacious office, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Dumbledore smiled benignly at the Potions Master from his seat behind his oaken desk. "Won't you sit, Severus?"

"I had hoped this would be a brief meeting," Snape said, glancing out the office's tower window. "The Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match is at noon."

"But of course," Dumbledore smiles, a twinkle in his piercing blue eyes. "It should prove to be a fascinating match, I'm sure."

"Yes, sir." Snape agrees, dark eyes roving once more to the window where robed figures flitted about on broomsticks, warming up for the oncoming match.

"But we still have the problem of what to do to replace Lupin," Dumbledore conjoins. The Potion Master's eyes instantly locked onto the Headmaster's at the mention of Lupin.

"None of the other Professors have availability on that day," Dumbledore muses, "Or the necessary qualifications."

Snape made no comment. A customary sneer lurked at the corner of his mouth.

"But we can always resolve this after the match," The Headmaster smiles. Thoughtfully, he added. "Sometimes these problems have a habit of resolving themselves…"

_()_

Flying the T.A.R.D.I.S. was no mean feat, especially while trying to eat a banana. The Doctor had one foot splayed out on the right side of the dashboard, and was frantically flipping switches and turning knobs with his free hand.

"C'mon," he said urgently, mouth full of banana. "C'mon, c'mon!"

The gold interior of the T.A.R.D.I.S. rippled with light, sparks springing from multiple sections of the dashboard. A resounding thud shook the entire control room.

"Must've hit a quantum deficiency in the time vortex," the Doctor explained quickly, lunging for a massive lever. He glanced over his shoulder, only to find his explanation went unheard. Donna had left him a while ago, and he was looking at empty space.

"Right then," he muttered to himself, finishing the rest of his banana and tossing the peel carelessly over his shoulder. The room was beginning to stabilize, and he stepped back proudly.

"Knew you'd fly straight," he addressed the T.A.R.D.I.S. affectionately. This little blue box was his companion now. He loved the little thing to pieces. Not literally, of course. The Doctor never did like that particular human euphemism.

With a perfunctory grin at the wonder that was his T.A.R.D.I.S., the Doctor pivoted and headed for the library. He could do with some books to brighten his day. Days were long with no companion by his side. Maybe he would crack open some Agatha Christie, or peruse some of Shakespeare's plays. He might have one of the Bard's originals lying around somewhere…did he leave it in the laboratory? That could turn nasty.

Head in the clouds more than usual, the Doctor failed to see a specific item on the floor. Something dastardly. Something deadly.

Something utterly and painfully yellow.

The tossed banana peel.

It didn't take long for his converses to slip and falter on the wretched thing. Long arms wind-milling frantically, the Doctor toppled backwards like a gangly puppet with its strings cut. His head slammed against the dashboard with a dull _thump_, and his long legs splayed out in a haphazard V.

The last thing to occur to him as he lay, head throbbing and staring at the rapidly fading banana peel, was how excruciatingly cliché this all was.

A banana peel?

He was actually pretty glad he didn't have a companion to see that…

_()_

Harry leaned forward on his broomstick, squinting as the wind surged around him. Thus far into the match, Gryffindor and Slytherin were neck and neck, at around forty points each. The day was gorgeous, one of the few golden autumn afternoons left before winter reigned. The stands were packed with teachers and students alike, and Hagrid had almost an entire row to himself as he cheered on Gryffindor in his colossal red and gold scarf. Harry could see Ron and Hermione from where they sat in the Gryffindor stands; it was never difficult to spot ginger Weasley hair.

Harry sped in a quick circuit around the Slytherin goalposts and zoomed low near the field, vying for the Snitch, but it was nowhere in sight. Nearing the Gryffindor goalposts, Harry was about to pull up when he heard a strange sound, almost like a low metallic siren. It increased in pitch and volume, and whispers and exclamations rustled through the stands.

Breaking sharply on his Nimbus 2000, Harry turned to face the sound. Surely Malfoy wasn't up to anything, couldn't be up to anything, in the middle of a Quidditch match.

What he saw was so strange he forgot about the ongoing match overhead. It was a worn blue Police Box, right in the very center of the Quidditch pitch. Curious, Harry edged his broomstick closer. Hadn't Police Boxes been used in the 1960s? It wasn't some sort of Portkey, was it?

"Harry!" Dumbledore called. The Headmaster was striding across the field towards the blue box, accompanied by the figures of Snape, Lupin, McGonagall, and Flitwick. He waved at Harry to get away from the mysterious apparition.

Madam Hooch blew her shrill whistle to call down the Quidditch players and Harry was soon joined by the rest of the Gryffindor team.

"Did you see it arrive? Just sort of faded in and out…."

"No apparating or disaparating within school grounds!"

"Reckon it's a prank?"

"Wasn't me. Was it you, Fred?"

"Nah. Bloody brilliant though."

"Do you think there's someone inside?" Harry asked his teammates quietly. An expectant hush fell as the Police Box doors began to open.


	2. Of Durmstrang and Werewolves

The Doctor sat up groggily. His head felt like it had been severed and stuck in a blender. Not that he had any personal experience with blenders.

"Blasted banana," he murmured reproachfully. The limp yellow peel slouched apologetically from where it lay, bedraggled, by the central control console.

The Doctor stood, swaying slightly. Sonic screwdriver? Check, still in his pocket. Glasses? They were somewhere on his person. Hair still awesome? He ran his hand over the wild russet strands. Check and check. Now he knew he was definitely ready for whatever lay outside the T.A.R.D.I.S. doors. Maybe it was the Horsehead Nebula; he hadn't been there in a while. Superb inhabitants, if a bit violent…

Yawning, he tottered towards the doors with the tired air of a unkempt cat. Not that he liked cats, especially not cats in wimples. And he imagined unkempt felines weren't very pleasant either.

Opening the door ceremonially, the Doctor stepped out into the crisp golden sunlight. He inhaled appreciatively. Earth, definitely. 21st century, autumn, somewhere in the United Kingdom. Brilliant.

Five wizards stared at him apprehensively. Well, four. The foremost wizard, dressed in brilliant blue robes and hat with a long silver beard, looked on at the Doctor with a smile, periwinkle eyes sparkling behind half-moon glasses.

"Hello," the Time Lord addressed Dumbledore and the surrounding teachers and students amiably. He grinned absurdly. "My name's the Doctor."

_()_

McGonagall knew right away she didn't like this man. He was tall and slender, with spiky brown hair that might have looked more at home on a porcupine. His brown eyes had a crazy gleam to them, and he wore, preposterously enough, a brown muggle pinstriped suit with a strange tan robe overtop. Reaching into his robe, he pulled out some sort of ID card and showed it to Dumbledore. The Headmaster took it graciously, inspecting it over his half-moon glasses.

"It says here you're the Doctor…" Dumbledore read, squinting as he read the small text. "A professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts from Durmstrang, is that correct?"

"Weeelll," the Doctor said, looking up at no one in particular and hooking his thumbs in his pockets. "I dabble."

"It says here you're a full-fledged member of the Wizengamot, Merlin class, and worked alongside Nicholas Flamel." Dumbledore paused, eyes twinkling. "I didn't know Durmstrang professors carried such detailed cards for identification."

"They don't," the Doctor blurted. "I mean, I do. I just started teaching, so I needed a…name tag."

"Headmaster," Snape interrupted, looking the Doctor up and down coldly. "Why is this man here?"

"And how did he get on school grounds in that…thing?" Flitwick squeaked, waving his wand for emphasis at the T.A.R.D.I.S.

"Quiet please, Severus, Filius. I'm sure the Doctor will explain."

"Right, well," The Doctor nodded graciously. "I came to this…magnificent castle…to, well…"

He floundered for a bit.

"He came on my invitation," a new voice said smoothly.

"Yes!" The Doctor declared thankfully, pointing at Lupin as he approached them. "His invitation. My good friend's."

"On yours, Lupin?" Snape asked snidely, sneering at the shabbily dressed professor. "I don't recall anyone asking permission for personal visits."

"Well, that's alright, because I'm here on a…business visit," The Doctor beamed irrepressibly at the frowning Potions Master. The corner of Snape's mouth twitched condescendingly.

"He's here to help during specific days, Headmaster," Lupin said pointedly.

"So you are qualified for the position, Doctor?" Dumbledore asked calmly. He seemed to be holding back a smile somewhere in that beard of his. Omnipotent sort of man, the Doctor thought absentmindedly. Probably brilliant, maybe as brilliant as me.

Up until now, the Doctor thought the conversation had been going quite smoothly. He was quite proud of how he had handled himself. Qualified for the position of teaching at an unknown school? Cake. "Yes?" he answered.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily as he turned to Severus. "What was it I said about these problems just resolving themselves?"

_()_

The Doctor tapped at the glass cage of the grindylow, squinting at the silvery reptilian creature through his thick-frame glasses. He grinned appreciatively at it.

"Where did you find this beauty?" He asked Lupin. The professor glanced over at the Doctor thoughtfully from where he stood near his cluttered desk. The office was as modestly adorned as its occupant, with the occasional bits of Dark Arts clutter on the desk and bookshelves. A rickety chandelier swung from the ceiling, but most of the room's illumination came from the tower window's natural light.

"I think we have better things to talk about than 3rd year level demons." Lupin smiled tiredly, rubbing his brow. The full moon of the month of October was approaching, and it was grating on him. "You just volunteered to substitute teach for me tomorrow and a couple of days after that."

"Right," The Doctor acknowledged, moving gingerly away from the grindylow. "What subject do you teach, exactly?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts-"

"Oh, so fighting wee beasties. Got it covered," The Doctor waved his hand dismissively. "I can't tell you how many times I've saved all of time and space…But more importantly, why did you pretend you knew me?"

The Time Lord adjusted his glasses, inspecting Lupin. "Not that I'm not thankful and everything. It's just I don't think we've met…unless we have, in which case I'm terribly sorry for not remembering you. I travel, erm, a lot."

Lupin grinned. "No, we haven't met. I've heard of you, Doctor. There isn't a werewolf who hasn't."

"I'm not surprised you've heard of me-wait, sorry, did I hear you correctly, werewolf?" The Doctor scratched his head. "Last time I checked, werewolves didn't exist. I met an extraterrestrial life form imitating one, but I sort of killed it before it murdered Queen Victoria."

"I'm a different breed," Lupin said, gesturing at himself depreciatively. "But there's werewolf folklore about you. A man called the Doctor, the first to successfully kill that particular species of werewolf and save Queen Victoria. He was knighted, then promptly banished and never heard from again. It was rumored he traveled in a magical blue box, so understandably my interest was piqued this afternoon."

The Doctor nodded, and then paused as something suddenly occurred to him. "Yeah, speaking of that little blue box, I need to make sure it isn't getting into the wrong hands. I suppose we'll talk again tomorrow."

On second thought, the Doctor reconsidered and tilted his head thoughtfully. "Sorry, that's the full moon, suppose we'd better not."

Lupin frowned, "you don't know the subject material, Doctor, and my first class is at 8:15 tomorrow morning."

The strange man stood at the door's plain threshold, one foot in the room and the other out. He grinned impishly, brown eyes sparkling. "I'll figure something out."

The door _snicked_ shut, sounding like a snicker of a promise.

Lupin shook his head, more than a little befuddled. How could someone teach a subject without knowing any of the lesson plans, or what the pupils had learned previously? But that wasn't really what really bothered the Dark Arts professor. Queen Victoria had lived in 19th century Britain, over a hundred years ago. How could someone who accomplished such an impressive feat in werewolf folklore still be alive today, and look so young?

And the Doctor had only spoken about it in passing, like one would an interesting newspaper article.

Who was this man?


	3. An Educational Encounter with Angels

The Great Hall was abuzz with talk about the strange man in the Police Box at breakfast that morning. To be frank, Hermione found it quite distracting, and she was having trouble focusing on the morning edition of_ The Daily Prophet_. She looked worriedly over her paper at Ron and Harry, who sat directly opposite.

"Do you think he'll be any good?" She asked nervously. "I mean, if he covers today's topic of grindylows poorly, it could affect all of our final exam results."

"'Eelax, 'Ermione," Ron choked out through a mouthful of hash browns.

"Dumbledore wouldn't use him if he wasn't qualified," Harry chipped in, looking up from the fluffy yellow mounds of egg on his plate.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Ron agreed, having swallowed his potatoes. "Shouldn't you be happy? He's even more of a looker than Lockhardt."

Hermione flushed pink.

"That's not what I'm worried about, Ron," she insisted, sounding keen to change the subject from the Defense Against the Dark Arts substitute's appearance. "I wouldn't care if he was as wrinkled as Flitwick's left pinky."

"So she says…" Ron gave Harry a meaningful look as Hermione fumed.

"At least it's not Snape, right?" Harry said, deciding to say something both his friends would agree on. Ron nodded vigorously, taking the opportunity to take another vicious bite of his hash browns.

"Tank Merlin fo' dat," He mumbled emphatically.

"Snape wasn't that bad," Hermione said fairly. "I just don't think he knew what we were supposed to learn about. This 'Doctor' apparently has many prestigious qualifications, but I've never heard of him before. He's never referenced in any textbook or magical journal."

"Well," Harry stood up, pushing back his chair. He needed to get his things for Charms that morning. "I just hope Lupin feels better, he's been under the weather a lot."

But despite Harry's admiration for Lupin as a teacher, he felt a tingle of anticipation for their Defense Against the Dark Arts class that afternoon. Intuition told him it would prove to be very interesting.

_()_

"Have you heard what the substitute Professor has been doing?" Malfoy said in a high drawl, addressing the usual gaggle of his Slytherin sycophants. Gryffindor and Slytherin students alike stood outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, waiting for the bell to ring. It would seem the attraction of a different Professor ensured they all got there early.

"Hilton said he had the man this morning. Apparently he's crazier than Lockhardt and Lupin combined." Malfoy said, clearly enjoying all the attention he was getting.

Harry glared at Draco, opening to his mouth to defend Lupin, when Hermione shook her vehemently.

"What if the new professor sees you fighting?" She hissed. "That'd make a terrible first impression."

Draco leered at Harry.

"What's the matter, Potter?" He spat, "Got something to say?"

And that was when the Doctor arrived.

He swept right past all of them, precariously carrying a towering stack of textbooks in his arms. His face was drawn in deliberation as the books shifted in his arms, and his tongue stuck out in concentration.

Hermione raised her hand a little to offer help with the books, but the surprise at the strange man's appearance made the offer die in her throat. He wore what looked like Lupin's black shabby robes over a brown pinstriped suit, and a pair of scuffed converses stuck out from under the robe's threadbare hems. A bulky silver pen stuck out of his suit pocket, and Hermione could practically hear Draco's smug grin and her classmate's shocked expressions.

The Doctor set down the textbooks with a gentle thump on Lupin's worn oaken desk. He turned to face the Gryffindor and Slytherin students expectantly. "Aren't you lot coming in?"

Feeling rather chastened for staring at the man, they all hastened to their desks, but the classroom was not without curious whispers.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," The Doctor said theatrically, leaning back against the worn desk. "The defense against….dark things."

The students shifted in their seats, uncomfortable under the dead serious expression the Doctor was staring them down with.

"Is he for real?" Ron whispered across the desk to Harry. Harry shrugged his shoulders, amused.

"Now then, have any of you heard of," The Doctor paused dramatically, peering over his glasses. "The Weeping Angels?"

There was an awkward silence. The class turned expectantly to Hermione, but she merely shook her head. In fact, there wasn't a single wizarding text that referenced them. Not to her knowledge.

"Well then," The Doctor crossed his arms. "You lot have a sizeable gap in your education. The Lonely Assassins, the Weeping Angels used to be called. They've existed for hundreds of millennia through the most perfect defense system ever evolved-they're quantum locked." He waited a few seconds for effect. "They don't exist when they're being observed. The moment they are seen by any other living creature, they freeze into rock. No choice, it's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing, they literally turn to stone. And you can't kill a stone."

The Doctor paused, tilting his head to the side. "'Course, a stone can't kill you either. But then you turn your head away. Then you blink. And oh yes it can. That's why the Weeping Angels cover their eyes; they can't risk looking at each other. Their greatest asset is their greatest curse. They can never be seen. Loneliest creatures in the universe…"

"Fitting they always cover their eyes as if they're weeping. But one touch from a Weeping Angel sends you back in time, and they feed off the time energy of the life you might have led"

The Doctor grinned a little to lighten the mood. "I suppose it's not such a bad way to go. They just zap you back in time and let you live to death.

"But, Professor," Harry interrupted, "How are we supposed fight them? How do you kill an Angel?"

"You don't," The Doctor said simply. "You can trap them, or you can keep a watchful eye, but you can't kill an Angel."

Draco snorted from the back of the class. "This is rubbish. I've never even heard of a Weeping Angel, and I'm sure father would've told me about them. If they really existed, that is."

The Doctor strode up to Malfoy's desk, exuding a calm and quiet challenge to the belligerent boy. He raised his eyebrows daringly. "But I haven't even told you the best part…Malfoy, is it?"

Malfoy nodded mutely, leaning back in his chair away from the Doctor. The substitute teacher suddenly seemed larger than life, looming in front of his desk.

"Well then, Malfoy. The image of an Angel becomes an Angel. Would you like to prove to the class that Angels don't exist? Would you like to show them how brave you are? Because I've got an old sonic projection that you can take a look at. Alone, if you like."

Malfoy shook his head mutely.

"Good lad," The Doctor said, clapping Draco merrily on the shoulder. "Doesn't mean you all won't get to see an Angel, though. Wouldn't be any fun without a good scare."

"Blimey, Harry," Ron whispered. "d'you reckon he's nutters?"

"I think he's absolutely bonkers," Hermione hissed, crossing her arms. "I'm not one to side with Draco often, but there's never been a single mention of Weeping Angels in anything I've ever read."

The trio watched in trepidation as their substitute pulled out a strange silver wand, almost mechanical in appearance with a blue tip. It emitted a peculiar, keening ululation as he aimed it the classroom wall, and a jet of light spurted forth, forming a hologram.

And what a hologram it was.

The statue was tall, taller than even the Doctor. Its stone torso stooped in mourning, the grey figure clasped both hands in front of its face. Ethereal wings jutted from the statue's back, and a deadly, sinister aura surrounded the thing in a thick cloud.

"Now, everyone just remain calm." The Doctor said. "Stand up, and move to the back of the room, behind me. We're going to try looking away for just a fraction of a second, and trust me. I've got this all under control."

Shouldn't have said that, the Doctor thought ruefully, watching the student's fearful expressions. It's as bad as "Nothing can go wrong," and "Everything's going to be ok now."

And that was when the classroom lights began to flicker, on and off in an irregular tattoo. The window shades began to flutter and close of their own accord.

Pansy Parkinson let out a muffled shriek, and Neville began to stammer fearfully about something his grandmother said. In unison, Ron, Harry, and Hermione pulled out their wands, along with a smattering of the other Gryffindor students.

"Did you see that? I think it moved!"

"No it didn't, you idiot. That's just the lights."

"Blimey, watch its hands, they're moving!"

Abruptly, all the lights in the classroom blinked out at once, and in the fraction of the second they were off the Angel had made it half way across the room, arms outstretched and face drawn in a grotesque scowl. Empty eyes stared at them all.

"I _told_ you it moved!"

"Oh, so now is the right time to say 'I told you so'?"

"Professor, stop it!" Pansy squealed, cowering behind a pasty Malfoy.

"_Reducto_!" Harry bellowed, aiming his wand at the Angel. A bold of red light smashed into the statue's face, but to no effect. He stepped back, thinking furiously.

The Doctor fumbled with his sonic screwdriver, which was the source of the Angel's image. "Sorry, the Angel is interfering with the controls. Hang on…"

"_Lumos_," Hermione said, and when the lights went out once more, the lone glow was from her wand. But to the classes' collective dismay, the wand's light began to dim as well. Frantically, Hermione thought what she could do to combat this mobile statue. If she could just get to the window shades, or access a mirror…

As the lights continued to dim and flicker in an overwhelming tattoo, the Angel ate up the space between it and the huddle of students at the back of the room in short bursts.

"There we go!" The Doctor proclaimed cheerfully, and the Angel suddenly vanished. The windows shades snapped back up with little _swips_, and the lights shone once more. The class returned to their seats in a hubbub of conversation.

"So," The Doctor said, beaming uncontrollably. The adrenaline pulsed through his system, making him look even more manic than usual. "What did you all think of your first encounter with a Weeping Angel?"

"You said Weeping Angels couldn't be killed," Dean asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion. "But you made that thing disappear."

"Yes, Dean. Excellent point. Glad you brought that up," The Doctor said. "Like I said, an image of an Angel becomes an Angel, but only to a certain extent. If the image it originates from is destroyed, then it is destroyed as well. You won't be as lucky with a real Weeping Angel. Now, you just need to remember. Don't blink."

He looked at all of them, his normally cheerful face drawn. "Blink and you're dead. Don't turn your back. Don't look away. And, _Don't. Blink_."

The Great Hall clock sounded for the next class, and the Doctor smiled benignly at the third years. "Good luck."

_()_

"Wait a minute, Hermione," The Doctor said as Gryffindor and Slytherin students streamed from the classroom. "Would you stay after for a moment?"

Hermione approached the eccentric professor's desk, books clutched to her chest. She couldn't imagine what this could possibly be about.

The Doctor appeared very relaxed, despite the heart-racing ordeal of the Weeping Angel. "That's a very nice necklace you've got there. An interesting design. Do you mind if I look at it for a minute?"

Hermione looked down at her robes; the golden time-turner had slipped out from under her shirt and swung freely, gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight pouring through the class windows. She studied the Doctor carefully; he didn't seem to know what it was, and genuine curiosity creased his features. Tentatively, she undid the clasp and handed it to him.

"Interesting…" He put on his glasses and examined it, clearly understanding it was more than just a piece of jewelry. Pulling out his strange silver wand, he ran it along the length of the chain and the hourglass pendant.

"Oooh," his face lit up. "This is brilliant. A personalized transport through the time vortex disguised in a necklace. It must be very valuable…" He dangled the hourglass between his fingers, switching his gaze slowly to Hermione. "So, the question is, what are you doing with it?"

"I got permission from Professor McGonagall," Hermione said timidly. "I use it to get to more classes."

"Good for you!" The Doctor grinned at Hermione, and she couldn't help but to smile shyly back. His smile was extremely contagious. "Education is very important! Your professors must think very highly of you to entrust this with a thirteen year old girl. You must be very responsible."

"Thank you," Hermione replied, tickled pink.

The eccentric professor held on to the time-turner a little longer. "Well, sorry for making you lose a little time between classes." He paused thoughtfully. "Never liked that expression. You can't lose time, a time can always be found again, especially with a special like tool like this." He handed the time-turner back with a certain degree of reverence. "Use it wisely, Hermione Granger."

"I will," she promised, smiling at the Doctor. He was strange, but there was something openly kindhearted and intelligent about him. Something inherently trustworthy. She was put at ease around him.

"Maybe I'll see you on my way to Muggle Studies." Hermione told him as she twisted the time-turner a quarter turn.

He grinned at her, "Now that you mention it, I might have seen you this morning heading in that direction. Learn something worthwhile for me!"


	4. Nargles

"Have you ever heard of nargles, Professor Doctor?"

A soft, faraway voice drifted to the Doctor's ears, and he paused, mid chew. He had gone to eat his lunch on the Grounds to grade papers and check up on his T.A.R.D.I.S. A plate stocked with bangers and mash as well as a cup of leek and mushroom stew stood to his left, and a sheaf of thick parchment paper lay to his right. And now a strange looking girl stood in front of him, not quite meeting his gaze but rather staring dreamily off at a patch of sky just to the right of his head.

Her school robes marked her as a second year Ravenclaw, and what looked like a pair of radishes dangled from her ears. How… interesting.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think we've met." The Doctor stood, wiping his hands on his suit pants.

The odd blonde stared at his proffered hand for a few uncomfortable seconds, before taking his wrist and shaking that instead. Her dad had written in the Quibbler that microscopic nymphs called the Coopoo hid under people's fingernails, and she couldn't be too careful. If the Doctor was surprised by this strange greeting, he hid it well.

"I'm Luna…" she said slowly in the faraway quality of hers. "Luna Lovegood." Inclining her head at the unfinished meal at the Doctor's feet, she asked offhandedly. "Am I interrupting your meal?"

"Ah," the Doctor glanced at the cold stew and dirty plate as if he had forgotten about it entirely. "I wasn't that hungry anyways."

Luna nodded a few times, and then proceeded to stomp down on the lukewarm sausages and mashed potatoes with her feet. She wiped her shoes clean on the grass as if the whole thing was completely normal.

"The Triple Eyed Prehe is attracted to elf-made meals that are left unattended," she said with a dreamy smile. "Did you know that?"

"Erm," The Doctor glanced at the strange student to the decimated remains of his lunch, and back again. "No, I can't really say that I did. Thanks, though. You know, for catching that. Could've been…bad."

"It wasn't a problem." Luna said cheerfully. She began to look off once more into the distance, and this time the Doctor turned to see what she was looking at.

"Oh, no," he exhaled slowly, his eyes wide with shock.

"Is your blue box supposed to be doing that?" Luna asked amicably. The T.A.R.D.I.S. was no longer by the Quidditch pitch like it had been when the Doctor started eating, but rather kept aloft high above the lake by a group of wizards from the Ministry. Their wands were trained on the police box, and as the Doctor and Luna watched, the Ministry wizards set the T.A.R.D.I.S. back down on the grounds with a delicate_ thump_. From what the Doctor could tell at a distance, it looked like they were running a series of tests.

Not good, very not good.

"Oy!," he shouted, waving his arms as he ran towards his precious T.A.R.D.I.S. and its captors. Luna stared after the strange man for a few seconds, watching his long brown robe billow out behind him, before turning and walking away, tugging the latest edition of the Quibbler out of her robes.

"Excuse me," the Doctor said in an out of breath burst. "Just what do you think you're doing with my box?"

One of the wizards who had been merely supervising turned to him, looking bemused by the Doctor's impudence. He was of the short, squat sort with a mustache several sizes too big and intricate robes that would better fit Hagrid.

"Jus' a routine inspection, good sor," he answered with a tip of his hat. The short wizard's robes were flowingly embroidered with the name Morionem Quinn. "Magical items of this size must be registered with the Ministry."

"Registered?" The Doctor exclaimed, and his right eyebrow seemed to take on a life of its own, twitching slightly. "And what does 'registering' involve, exactly?"

Morionem shrugged. He was only the supervisor and didn't fully understand the process himself, so he didn't see why this tall man needed to know either. Keen to pass the Doctor's irksome and inquisitive questions on to someone else, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Why don't you ask 'em?"

"I will, thank you." Jamming his hands into his coat pockets with purpose, the Doctor gave Morionem a salutary glance and moved on to the witches and wizards huddled around his precious T.A.R.D.I.S. They seemed thoroughly baffled by the locking mechanism on the doors alone, not to mention the humble and weathered sign reading "Police Telephone, FREE for use of PUBLIC."

"It says here 'pull to open.'"

"I can see that, Ewan. Do you think we haven't tried that ten times already?"

"Stupid misleading sign. 'Free for use of public,' my arse."

"Reckon there's some sort of Dark Magic keeping it shut?"

"Don't be daft, it belongs to a teacher. Dumbledore wouldn't let anyone working for him have anything to do with the Dark Arts."

"There is that Snape bloke…"

The Doctor rocked back on his heels impatiently just a few feet from the T.A.R.D.I.S.

"If I may have a word," he ventured to interrupt. Four aggravated faces turned to look at him. "That is my…box you're assaulting."

"Your box?" One reedy witch piped up curiously, but a taller wizard elbowed her out of the way. It was clear he was the one in charge. He looked to be a good man, albeit very frustrated at the moment.

"Yeah, it's an…" the Doctor grasped at straws. "an office decoration. Yeah, it's an office decoration! It's not supposed to open, because, you know, then it wouldn't be…decorative."

"Mighty strange office decoration, that is, Rhysand."

"Shut up and let the man talk, Ewan."

The Doctor nodded profusely, and pulled the psychic paper from his robes. "Besides, I've got it registered, see here? All this thing does is make noise and light up, but it's 'registered' anyways." At the assembled wizards' expressions, he put in helpfully. "For safekeeping."

Rhysand snatched the psychic paper from his hand, methodically going over the paper with his wand. His brow furrowed. "We got a tip from a student here about an unregistered transportation device on the school grounds. Malfoy, I think it was. dad is the big cheese, but I should've known it'd be wrong. These papers seem legitimate enough to me."

"Told you this would be a waste of time," the reedy witch murmured reproachfully.

"Shut it, Ewan," Rhysand reprimanded. Turning to the doctor, he gave a little apologetic bow. "Sorry to waste your time. We can put your, erm, office decoration, back where it was."

"Thank you!" The Doctor said with a grin swollen by relief. He patted Rysand on the back to the older man's surprise, and walked away.

He had decided, despite the initial turbulence, that Hogwarts was quite a nice place. Quite a nice place indeed.

_()_

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classes taught by the Doctor passed by faster than anyone had really expected, and his short-lived tenure would be missed more than anyone could have predicted. After all, he was only there for a few short days. But in that brief time period, he taught of fantastical dark creatures unheard of by the wizarding world, and his lessons would go down in the very depths of favorite Hogwarts legend.

The day before the Doctor left, the fourth years were a buzz about the Vashta Nerada, and the first years were having trouble going to sleep at night, haunted by visions of the Cybermen. And no third year ever quite forgot the unique experience of their encounter with a Weeping Angel.

"So then, you're on the mend?" the Doctor asked Lupin one morning at breakfast. The shabby professor nodded tiredly, looking more haggard than usual, but he clasped his utensils firmly and had quite the hearty appetite. The other teachers in the Great Hall couldn't seem to pass him the serving platters fast enough, until McGonagall ordered extra food from the house elves in a somewhat snappish tone.

"I'm feeling much better, thanks," Lupin replied after swallowing down a rather large piece of sausage. He struggled a bit, feeling the piece of food get lodged in his throat, but the Doctor reached out and gave him a helpful slap on the back.

"Easy there," the Doctor chuckled, and Lupin grinned easily back. After a few minutes of comfortable silence – which was mostly occupied by the sound of happy eating – the Doctor said. "You know, you're lucky to have the job you do. I think I'll miss it here."

"Hmph," Attacking his third piece of toast, Lupin raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if my students will be excited to have me back. You were quite…engaging, as I understand it."

"Weeellll," the Doctor stretched the word out with an easy smile. "I may have been a bit unorthodox."

"A bit," the shabby professor agreed. He wasn't deaf, he had heard the stories. "Maybe my students will be relieved to have me back, then. I thought I'd teach this morning's second year class, if it's all the same to you."

Lupin didn't miss the flash of disappointment that crossed the Doctor's face, but if he hadn't seen it he would've thought the strange man was relieved.

Stuffing his mouth full of banana, the Doctor asked offhandedly. "Hey, do you know why your usual sub couldn't stand in for you this time?"

"Snape?"

"Mmm." The Doctor nodded vigorously.

"He had other things on his mind, I suppose. There was the Potions conference in Dublin that lasted a few days. No one's really seen him this past week, and he's got the Bloody Baron standing in for him as the Potions Master."

"Interesting. 'Suppose I might see him before I head off, but chances are against it."

Shocked, Lupin paused his eating. "You're leaving already? I thought you said you liked it here."

"I do," the Doctor said, and for a few seconds he looked older, more stretched. "I like everywhere I go, but I don't stay. I never stay."

Lupin frowned, feeling that he may have misjudged this man.

"You're welcome to help out with the lesson this morning, if you'd like." He offered tentatively.

But the Doctor merely declined with a polite smile and excused himself from the table.

Lupin watched as the strange man walked away, and the professor couldn't remember a time he had seen someone look more lonely than the Doctor looked in that moment. The Doctor, the man who traveled to so many places, and yet never stayed.


	5. A Lemon Drop Goodbye

"I hear you're leaving us so soon," Dumbledore prompted from behind steepled fingers. Standing across from him, the Doctor nodded slowly. He had been summoned to the Headmaster's office right after the midday meal, and he was itching to examine every single one of the gadgets that adorned Dumbledore's fabulous study.

"Yeah, I thought I might. Thought I should...return to Durmstrang." the Doctor rambled under his breath. Admittedly, only a small part of his attention was on Dumbledore, the rest of it being focused on the office's contents. Whipping out his thick-framed glasses, he picked up what looked like a pint-sized toaster with golden edging, turning it over and over in his long fingers.

"I'm sure I could find you a more permanent position here, if you so desired it." Dumbledore suggested. His blue eyes glinted with amusement behind his half-moon glasses, watching the Doctor move about his office like a kid in a candy shop.

"Hm,' the Doctor murmured noncommittally.

"Do you remember the first time we met, Doctor?"

The Doctor looked up sharply. If he hadn't been paying attention before, he sure as Merlin's left sock was now. He sat down abruptly in the chair across from Dumbledore's.

"I'm sorry?" He said, adjusting his glasses. "Did you say that we've met?"

The headmaster smiled slowly, reclining in his chair. "You certainly looked different when I saw you, very different, but then again so did I. Just out of Hogwarts, I think, and very full of myself. I would've been visiting my family in Godric's Hollow, though I'm not sure 'visiting' is the proper term. It was more of a farewell."

For a few seconds, Dumbledore looked like he was again in his prideful twenties, wandering around his childhood home. But he soon snapped out of it, fixating on the Doctor once more. "But you, you looked older back then, if that's even possible. I could even go so far to say you were a completely different man. You had curly brown hair beneath a battered and brimmed hat, a long coat similar to the one you wear now, and a striped scarf that could stretch on for ages. Even by wizarding standards it was odd attire. If I remember correctly, you were standing outside the Godric's Hollow library, as if you were waiting for someone. And as I walked by-"

"I offered you a jellybaby!" the Doctor chipped in, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I remember now! Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, that's how you introduced yourself. Although, you did seem a might pretentious then. But a very fine lad, through and through."

The headmaster chuckled. "You did not meet me at my best, I'll admit. But do you remember what happened next?"

"How could I forget?" Beaming as he reminisced, the Doctor continued. "You had stopped and took me up on my offer, so I reached into my coat pocket to get my little wax bag of jellybabies – but that's when I remembered I had given them all to some school children that morning after breakfast. Their mothers were quite mad at me…"

Dumbledore nodded. "And you were so upset that you gave me an entire sack of lemon drops instead, begging my forgiveness. It was right after that that a young woman ran up to you yelling 'Doctor, Doctor, they're back!' She was quite distressed, and you ran off immediately to help her, leaving me standing there like a big twit with an even bigger bag of lemon drops."

"Lemon drops!" the Doctor laughed. "What a poor exchange for jellybabies."

"I beg your pardon," Dumbledore pulled a bag from one of the drawers in his desk. Ripping the waxy paper of the bag open with a soft tearing sound, he took out one of the candies and popped one in his mouth. "They're quite delightful."

He offered one to the Doctor, who accepted it graciously, and they sat together in silence, remembering younger times and sucking lemon drops thoughtfully.

_()_

Hermione stood outside the police box, feeling rather uncertain. She was too short to peer through the thick glass, even on her tiptoes, and she doubted it would have helped much anyways. The sun hung low in the sky, and the late afternoon sunlight was caught in the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Apprehensive, she rapped on the door softly.

"Half a moment!" came the shout, echoing strangely for such a constricted space. There was a series of loud _bangs_, and Hermione was beginning to regret her decision to see the Doctor off, when the police box door swung open.

"Yes?" the Doctor asked, poking only his head out. Upon seeing Hermione, he slid out of the police box with a smile. "Do you need something?"

"Well, no." Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I just thought I'd see you off."

"Ah." The Doctor stood awkwardly for a few seconds, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. Neither of them spoke for several more uncomfortable moments, and the Doctor said quickly "Well, that's goodbye then."

He turned on his heel, but Hermione shouted "Wait!"

"What for?"

Blushing madly, Hermione said. "What about all the creatures you talked about in class, I want to know where you heard about them. And the stories you told, I've never read anything like them in the Prophet or anywhere else."

"Well," the Doctor looked at Hermione, sizing her up. "You could come with me, if you'd like."

"Go with you where? Would it interrupt my exams?"

"Right, sorry." The Doctor rescinded his offer. "You're a school girl, it'd be entirely inappropriate. I mean, that's young, even for me. Not that I make a habit of taking young females with me places. Weelll, that's not entirely true…"

"Look at me, rambling on. I've got to go," He reopened the door to his TARDIS, taking on last glance over his shoulder at Hermione. "But I'll remember you, Hermione Granger. I might see you again in…say, ten years? Twenty?"

"Twenty years," she laughed. "But that's such a long time from now!"

"Not for me," the Doctor winked, and the T.A.R.D.I.S. snapped shut.

_()_

So, that's where we'll leave him, the Doctor and his adventures. For now, at least.

Because when the T.A.R.D.I.S. touched down for the second time, it was on a sweeping grassy hill – a grassy hill with a round green door leading to hole. A warm sort of hole, a habitable one. For in that hole, there lived a hobbit.

**-The End-**

_Author's Note: _Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


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